Tarot
by AmyLeeWarren
Summary: The fool comes to a cross road, sure of which he should take, what he wishes to do. But on the other path is a woman. Speaking with her, he fills a gap within. The fool knows he dare not leave her behind. Someone reapears from Jane's past. Eventual J/L.


**Okay. I watched Throwing Fire, and fell in love with Jane's past. I know this whole story will be AU, but I couldn't just leave it. **

**Summary- A childhood friend for Jane's 'carnie' days reappears, unearthing lost memories, pains and joys. Probably eventual J/L.**

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Tarot**

In the midnight bleak, on the wreak of our summer joys, I lay still against the cool grass. My hands were splayed out, the plant seeping between my fingers like pool of water. I could swear I felt myself sinking- deeper and deeper into the realms of the night, the sky bearing down, pressing me into the ground. I sighed against the cool air, my breath as a mist I couldn't even see. My eyes were shut, feeling the sting of colder air. In the distance, I could hear the chimes and bells of my livelihood. The hill on which I lay sloped down towards the site- my home, my work.

I breathed in the fresh air, free from cotton candy and popcorn, petrol and moulding fabric.

Barely far from the plot, I could only imagine the freedom I could feel from the constrictions of my stage.

When my eyes opened, the scattered stars dimmed slightly, the light distinguished by what I could only imagine as a harsh reality.

I scrubbed my face with my hands, screwing my eyes shut against the glow of light from down the hill. I felt footfalls against the ground, and a thud to my right. I didn't even turn to see my imposter. I just listened to the silence it brought, the sudden stillness from the commotion. I sat up, hugging my bare knees and leaning my head against them. I closed my eyes again, and heard the sigh of my company as he leant back into the grass. Smirking, I peered through one eye, seeing him cross his arms over his chest, the shirt and scout tie rustling in the new, light breeze. Pulling my skirt over my knees, I watched him breathing slowly, his eyes fluttering as if dreaming.

"Bad day." It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded slightly.

"Had worse though." He breathed.

I lay back by his side on the grass, feeling his scratchy shirt against my arm.

"You made your decision?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Are you leaving us?"

"Them. Yes." He propped himself up onto a elbow to down look at me. "I want you to come with me."

I sat up suddenly. "What?" I gasped. "You want me to come with you? Don't be silly." I brushed some grass from his shoulder.

"We'll make a great team. You have a talent." He pulled me up until I was in a sitting position. The wind ruffled my long hair around my shoulders and I pulled it back into a band.

"You're the one with the talent." I said sombrely. "You're the 'pretty boy' who can read minds."

"There's no such thing as psychics." He ignored the 'pretty boy' comment, and I smiled. "And besides, you're just a beautiful." His lips twitched up into what was becoming a heart-stopping smile and his eyes twinkled in the dim light.

I could feel myself being pulled in, and had to physically stop myself.

"You're gonna be a hit with the ladies." I laughed, embarrassed.

He just smiled softly. "Please think about it?"

"I can't promise anything. My mom wants me to stay here."

"I can't stay here much longer. I told you about the young girl didn't I?"

"You never know Patrick, she might survive."

"Survive?" He stood up quickly, and began to pace. I lifted myself off the ground to his height. "She won't live until Tuesday! And by the time her grandmother realises what she's done, we'll be long gone, untraceable."

"Pat-"

"I can't believe I helped him con money out of a dying girl!" He shouted, pointing down towards the site.

"You could have just saved her life." I said quietly, holding his arm to stop him walking about. He looked at me, eyebrows raised, daring me to oppose. "You gave her hope. Even if she does die. You made her last days better for her." His harsh gaze softened ever so slightly. "Maybe some hope was all she needed."

"You should join the team. You make a great liar." He seethed, and I flinched away from him.

"All you have to do is twist what you see. You deal the cards, and say whatever you feel like."

I opened my mouth to retaliate, but he was already heading down the hill, a silhouette against the glow.

* * *

That night, Patrick packed up and left, leaving only his suit atop his bed. I was hounded by dawn, and littered with questions and accusations of why he left. Tears slipped quietly down my cheeks when I was left alone, and I wandered up to the hill after my show, my cards in my pocket.

On top of the hill, just behind where we had lain the night before, was a tree, small, yet sturdy enough to hold my weight. I climbed the first couple of branches, my feet slipping on the rough bark.

I reached a large branch, and sat for a while before I noticed a small crevice in the trunk. Inside, was a neatly folded sheet of paper.

_I know this is your favourite spot here. It's quiet, and no-one even knows where it is._

_I hope you can forgive me for my impromptu departure. I listened to you, but I still can't do this any more. I need to have my own act, my own life._

_The offer will always be open if you want to join me, and since you're so psychic, you'll know where to find me._

_P_

_x_

I knew it was meant to be an insult, but the worrying thing was, that I _did_ know where to find him.

* * *

I sat in an eager audience years later, surrounded by people who believed that the lucky few really did have access to the after-life, and could talk to the deceased.

I watched him play the crowd, and smiled.

Then cried moments later, when I saw him burn.

I looked for his silver suit, slicked hair and blue eyes after the show, and hung around the back door. I even left a message with a stage hand, flashing my ID and twisting truth ever-so-slightly.

I was a lawyer, just not _his._

When he stepped out the door, I grinned. He smiled back and stepped towards me. I was holding my card at the time, and he withdrew a pen from his jacket and pulled the paper towards him.

With a quick flick of his wrist, and a charm smile, I had nothing left of my childhood friend but a signature.

And a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

The next day, when I switched on the news with my morning coffee, the headline made my blood run cold. I placed down the mug with shaking hands, and watched snapshots of the scene on the screen. The grotesque tableaux of each room, the blood and anguish so potent, I couldn't even bear to glance.

Minutes later, I was rifling through old boxes. My hand hit a small wooden box, and I pulled it out, dislodging many other trinkets.

I pulled the contents out, and placed them gently on the kitchen counter.

It had been years since I'd dealt any Tarot cards. I placed a firm picture of Patrick in my mind, how he used to be- young and carefree.

Breathing deeply, I pulled the three cards in succession, and placed them face down. I flipped the first.

_The Fool. _

Filled with daydreams and wonder he cannot see the cliff off of which he is about to fall.

_The Empress. _

The fool kneels before her, and re-tells his story. He finds hope in her wisdom.

_Lovers. _

The fool comes to a cross road, sure of which he should take, what he wishes to do. But on the other path is a woman. Speaking with her, he fills a gap within. The fool knows he dare not leave her behind.

I hoped I was right.

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A/N Apologies for any mis-readings in the tarot section. I found the first three, and they all seemed to fit. That worried me, but it won't be happening again I don't think... I know it won't really make much sense, but I neeeded to have something in there. **

**Anyway, please review. I really want to know if I should continue with this, or just leave it here.  
**


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